Linh Dieu Lam
Samantha Bell
Honors COMP I
29 August 2014
A Messed Up Love
Dear you,
Hey,
how ya been? We haven't spoken in a while. Yeah, we ran into each other earlier
this month at Carthage but we didn't exchange words, only glances - afraid to
make eye contact. I thought in the 22 months since we've last met the emotions
wouldn't be as strong but I was wrong. I knew there was the possibility that we
would cross paths there but I push the thought aside because this was a
Vietnamese event all the way in Joplin. The event lasted from Thursday morning
until Sunday night, there were thousands of people, and the area was dark and
vast. The chances were slim. I was in the front row, recording and snapping
shots of the performers and having a good time until I spotted a familiar face
on the other side of the crowd. I had to do a double take. Was that the face
that haunted my dreams for months on end? Was that the face I loved so dearly?
My chest tightened, adrenaline racing through my veins and a blurred vision I
scoped around for an escape. Unable to fee, I had to swallow the tears and
clutch onto my crumbling mask.
My
eyes would flicker from the performers back to your face. You were still
sporting that dark caramel hairstyle and the nerdy glasses you picked out to
match with mine. You've filled out, in a nice way. There's a saying that when
people are happy in relationships they gain weight. Is that true? You're happy
with her? I scanned the crowd but I didn't see her - one less worry off my
mind.
I
could not continue living without you, or so I believed. I found myself in you,
so losing you meant losing me as well. No one suspected that I would be the one
dumped. They all thought it would be the other way around since it seemed as
though I yield power in the relationship. What they didn’t realize is that you
weren't perfect either. You would scream, scoff, growl, throw and bangs things
violently, and kept me crying in your room – begging you to let me leave.
But
I still held on, wanting to believe the boy I fell in love was somewhere in
there. I relied completely on you. You were my best friend; you were the
one I envisioned my future with, walking down the aisle and having children of
our own. You were my mirror. I was closer to your family than my own. I felt as
though my family was too critical and pessimistic so I connected to yours with
greater ease. Surrounding and submerging myself in you and your life, I lost
who I was.
It
was my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous; I shouldn’t have gotten insecure
when you started spending less time with me, opting to chill with other pretty
ladies. I should have cut off my friendship to other male friends. I should
have dressed up more. I should’ve done more than decorate your room in
apologies, cards, and gifts. It wasn’t enough to get off an 8 hour shift and
drive to your house just to spend time with you until 2AM. My love was never
enough because you were already sick of me.
I
sunk in the abyss of depression. Everything was tasteless with a hint of
bitterness. The world was bleak and silent. An honor roll student dropped to a
barely passing student. Work became my sanctuary; alcohol was my daily pain
killer, chugging down a bottle or two to wash away the tears. I lost my focus,
thoughts wandering to a fantasy. I couldn’t bear a life without your essence so
I attempted to end it. I failed, pulled back by my mother who I couldn’t open
up to. Broken and tired, I cried in her arms without explanation while my 7
year old sister and 6 year old brother looked upon a sister who they’ve never
seen shed tears, frighten and lost.
Nobody
wanted to be there for me. All of our mutual friends, even the ones who had
gotten to known me first turned their back to me. I was an outsider, scorn and
judged. You were the perfect one. I, the corrupted. I heard from others that in
the past when we were still together you would bag on me so it was you who
tarnished my image, calling me a psycho bitch when I tried to prove my
sincerity. I may have pointed out your flaws from time to time but whenever
anyone dared speak ill of you, I came to your defense.
You
weren’t there for us though. I carried the burden of isolation, of the duties,
and the nightmares of a murder instead of a beautiful child. You denied your
child, doubting the truth, hoping that the issue would disappear. Only after
that the deed was done that you showed remorse, stating that it was yours too.
Bullshit. You were busy partying. Yeah, that’s right. I heard that you got
drunk and was all over other girls. You never cared. Do you even know how old
your child would be now? 15 fucken months and you would still be the same
deadbeat you are now.
Then
you got together with your cousin’s former girlfriend, who still had feelings
for his former girlfriend. When we were together and they had issues, I never
said shit about her yet she had the audacity to spit venom in my direction when
we split. Excuse me? I drove that bitch’s ass home in during the devil’s hour
after work for you. If I had known I would have left her stranded to die. The witch brainwashed you to get over me
faster, that you needed to take everything I’ve given you and burn it. How
maleficent. She plays the victim card, afraid that I’d beat the shit out of her
so she has to call up all these other people to safeguard her. Damn, she must have
had a lot of time but funny thing is she never directly contacted me when she
had the resources. Then again, I may kill her.
I
hate you, I hate you for the things you’ve done to me but I love you for what you’ve
given me. I’ll never lose myself too deeply in the illusion of love. My anger
for you has motivated me to succeed. Scrap the bullshit of being a perfect housewife;
I don’t cook for anyone anymore. I will have my revenge in reminding you of my
success whether it is for harvesting the most DNA strands from pea plants, winning
a scholarship overseas to be an ambassador, or obtaining my cosmetology license
a couple of months after graduating high school. You’re still asking your mom
for allowance, unmotivated to become anything in life.
I hope you get better.
I hope you get off your ass and actually work a decent paying job. I hope that
one day you’ll be happy and successful – but not more than me, that you’ll find
the one who will mend your heart from the things I’ve put you through and keep
a smile upon your face. I’m sure you’re curious as to what I’ve been up to
since I can see you silently checking up on me from time to time. I’ve curious
about you too but I don’t want to see something that’ll only cause me more pain
so I avoid it. I still care about you; I still love you but not like how I use
to. I hope you live well.
Sincerely,
The
faded past.
